


close my eyes

by Purplehaze811



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Stark Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 11:44:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13903317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purplehaze811/pseuds/Purplehaze811
Summary: If Jon just closes his eyes he can almost picture his home the way it used to be before it fell apart





	close my eyes

**Author's Note:**

> this is nothing but pure angst! No pairings are shown in this fic as its a stark family story that's based from Jon's perceptive where he views characters such as Sansa as his sister. If you want to come and cry over game of thrones with me come find me at: day_dream_haze on tumbr! hope you enjoy!

Sometimes when he closed his eyes Jon could almost see his home. Not the shell he lived in now the walls which once had held children’s laughter now drenched in blood no he could still see the Winterfell of before. His home. He could picture Arya’s sweet smile and the feel of her arms clinging to his shirt. He could remember how even as baby she would try to outdo the boys. “she’s wild that one” his father would mutter in a fake disapproving tone whilst his eyes shone with pride. It pained Jon not to know what happened to her after their father’s death. Was she still out their somewhere? He wondered what she was like now. How she had grown. He hoped that the fierceness still shone in her eyes. 

On quiet days spent freezing on night watch huddling away from the sharp winds he remembered the roaring fires of home. The warmth Robb’s arm around his shoulder and the sound of his laughter as they chased each other down the castles halls too young to understand their difference in standing. He could still remember the weight of Robb’s hand settling on his shoulder on that last day and the teasing tone of his voice. Their parting words still rang through his head “the next time I see you you’ll be all in black” he could feel the cold that much more knowing there was no next time. He had seen to that by not being there for Robb at the red wedding. The what ifs will always weigh down on his soul when it comes to his elder brother’s death. 

He remembers when he first met Ygritte and her fiery hair how his heart had clenched at the thought of his little sister’s similar hair. How she was trapped in the lion’s den with no way out. How much pain had Sansa been subjected to? Growing up Jon had never been very close to Sansa. Out of all his siblings she looked the most like her mother who made it very clear he wasn’t welcome in the stark family. He could still remember how innocent Sansa was, how small she was in his arms when he was finally allowed to hold her as a baby. No matter their differences Jon would always think of her as his little sister. So, when he saw her again after all those years he clutched her close and refused to let go. 

When the lords of the north chanted for him as King of the north and bile rose up in his throat at the reminder of the same chants his brother had received before his death Jon liked to think back to the days spent with the youngest starks. He would imagine Bran on his shoulders, swinging his feet and his laughter ringing out. He would see the delicate balance he had as he raced across roof tops with an easy smile. When he thinks of Bran he always remembers him running with ease in his every step. Jon can’t bear to remember that Bran will never take another step. That it was stolen from him just like that. He remembers the smallest stark in some of his darkest days. He remembers being surprised by how tall Rickon had gotten as he raced across the battlefield towards him. He can still picture him only a couple of days old cradled in his arms. He had promised him back then that he would protect him and he remembers breaking that promise. He remembers the feeling of his baby brothers blood on his face. 

When they have taken Winterfell back and stand inside the walls banners flying high with Sansa standing alongside him a mirror of her mother in her aging appearance but so much like their father in the way she refuses to call him anything but brother, a stark. Overlooking the courtyard like his father once had made pain bubble within Jon. His father was an enigma to him. He was someone who held onto loyalty and honour so tightly he would give his life for it but had also gone off to war and betrayed his wife. He would always remember the things his father had taught him. It was the code he lived by. Ned was stern, someone who took his responsibilities and name very seriously but had a gentle honest soul. Jon could still remember he fathers wide smile the first time Jon held a sword, the way he had squeezed his shoulder in pride. No matter how much pain Jon remembered being in these walls, the feelings of never belonging, being an outsider looking in, his father had always made it clear that Jon was his family.

It hurt to think of his father’s death but when he stood before the people who called him king because of Neds Starks blood in his reins he held onto his fathers last words to him “you may not have my name but you have my blood” because he may not be a stark but he would always be of the north. He could only hope his father would be proud in him now. The Starks had been far from the perfect family but a family they were. If Jon closed his eyes he could almost still hear them all together, their laughter filling the room. He wondered how many at this point were nothing but ghosts.


End file.
